


Deafening Silence

by amarihya



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Family Issues, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 10:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17119880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarihya/pseuds/amarihya
Summary: She made a habit of looking away, every single time, and continues to do so until she is certain that she is doing the right thing.





	Deafening Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything concerned with the Wizarding World.
> 
> Note: English is not my first language. I do, however, appreciate constructive criticism.

** Deafening Silence **

When he screams, she covers her ears. It's not always easy but, honestly, it has become more of a reflex than anything else. She does not react, ever, but rather continues to do her chores. Cooking and cleaning are always working better when his cries are a mere background music. Like a radio, subtle and not at all startling, or like elevator music: there but not real enough for anyone to care at all. He would eventually stop, after all. She smiled brightly as she looked at Dudley in front of her, sitting in his highchair with puffy pink cheeks and those beautiful blue eyes. He really was an angel. Vernon entered the kitchen, cheerful. A whistling tune on his lips as if this would not interfere with the cries. Sometimes, she was not even sure he heard them anymore. He too had mastered the art of turning a blind eye. The child was nothing to them. Nothing more than the wayward son of her freaky sister. She would not ever try to be affectionate towards him, or nice. She had no feelings left except hate and disregard… and even that seemed too much sometimes.

***

She lets him scream and cry and hope and pray and alone. He is not even one year old, and already living in the cupboard under the stairs- in the dark and the night and the dust and the isolation. Alone. She knows he is afraid and frightened, but she just does not care. She hates him. She hates him so much, with everything she has, that she even forgets that he is just a child. A fearful and shy and lonely child. But that does not change anything: because he is not _her_ child. He is a mere parasite, nesting in her house, making fun of her and her family. He is no better than his mother.

***

She is not there for him, ever. Not when he is hungry or feverish or afraid or thirsty or in pain or has anything at all. She just is not there. He is only someone living in the same house as her, existing, nothing more. And sometimes, she even does disregard his existence. It makes things a lot easier. Of course, she knows that it is wrong, deep down in her heart, and the little bit of conscience she has left constantly condemns her, but her hate is just stronger than everything else. And because of that she keeps quiet and her husband keeps quiet, too, and eventually their silence is so loud that it drowns out even his screams.

***

He could do…. He had this ability, this terrible _defect_. He could do… things… actions… _it._ They never named it or addressed it and, most certainly, never explained it or told him. It simply did not exist in their mind. His parents, her sister, killed in a car accident- they did not deserve any more. Not one word more. They lied to him, consciously and knowingly and willingly without guilt, and they ridiculed him and despised him and Harry never felt welcome and they knew he would go away first chance he had. Finally going away. Far away. If they were lucky, he would even go as far away as his parents.

***

She never told him about his mother, her sister. Nothing of her only sister. She could not even call her by name, because she was afraid remorse would set in as soon as she did. And she did not want to feel any remorse at all, not towards _her._ It was not her own fault, after all. Her sister was nothing to her. A plague, turning her perfect world upside down even from beyond the grave. Destroying everything she had created for herself. And because of that her sister was just her sister, nothing more and nothing less. A mere title without any feelings attached to it. Nobody even knew of her. And that was just the way she liked it.

***

They kept him on a short leash. So short, that sometimes he did not even come out of his cupboard. They considered this to be _good_ days. But the letter came anyway. This small, owl-brought letter addressed to him personally. With this beautifully curved font and terrible damning emblem upon it. The kind of letter she now saw for the second time- addressed to two different persons, neither of them being her. It was the letter they kept from him, frantically. The letter they burned. They had to make a choice between enduring Harrys presence or admitting that _magic_ was real. They rather chose the first option, because magic truly was the only thing on this world, they hated more than this black-haired boy.

***

They did not realize anything when Albus Dumbledore finally came. The wizard who was mightier than anybody else. The wizard she once wrote to, pleading and begging and cravingly asking him to allow her to follow her sister to Hogwarts. Just to be exactly as abnormal as her. No, there was no insight or understanding when he confronted them with everything they had done. When he was disappointed and disgusted by them for deeds done to a young boy that could never be taken back. For deeds no one on this earth could justify with all the words of the world. They were not sorry, not on second, and that showed Dumbledore one of his greatest errors of judgement.

***

They just did not _understand._ They understood nothing. Not why everybody made such a turmoil about the boy nor how anybody could care about him at all. They did not get the attention and affection and devotion he was getting or why he was constantly looked at with awe. They did not understand why they had to leave _their_ house, one day, without asking questions or getting answers, and why everybody made such a fuss about _him_ instead of _them_. They lacked understanding of so many things. And because of that they did not even realize that by ridiculing Harry they just ridiculed themselves above all else.


End file.
